Nightmares
by katierosefun
Summary: The Doctor has nightmares. Clara Oswald unintentionally helps him. [Whouffaldi fluff.]


**I am officially in love ****_1989 _****by Taylor Swift. Gawd, it's impossible to choose my favorite song, but I think it's pretty much tied between ****_Blank Space _****and ****_Wildest Dreams_****, which reminds me freakishly of Whouffaldi. Oh, and ****_This Love, _****which is sort of a border between Whoufleé and Whouffaldi. And ****_Out of the Woods _****and ****_Bad Blood _****and ****_I Wish You Would _****(for post ****_Kill the Moon_****.) ****_Gawd_****. **

**Who else totally freaked out when seeing the ****_Dark Waters _****promo? 'Cause I know I did. :'( (And the "Clara, my Clara, I don't think you will!" tidbit? I screamed. Legit. Just ****_howled._****) CLARA AND THE DOCTOR BETTER BE OKAY OR I WILL FREAK. I SWEAR. **

**So...I think I'll just write some Doctor/Clara cuteness before the storm hits us all. Enjoy! **

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><p><em>Nightmares <em>

The Doctor awoke with a gasp. He could feel his hearts thudding loudly against his chest, echoing around and around in his head whilst doing so. His entire body was trembling as he propped himself up on his elbows. He could feel cold sweat slide down his forehead and his spine, like little ghost fingers. The Doctor had to blink a few times to get used to his surroundings, too.

_Where was he? _

It wasn't actually until the Doctor's eyes landed on the familiar bookshelves and console did he feel his muscles relax. _TARDIS, _he thought, rubbing his face with his hands, _right. _

The Doctor was sitting – or maybe _lying_, who knows – on an armchair on the upper level of the TARDIS. He obviously had been sleeping, something that the Doctor figured he didn't really do so often these days. Then again, he supposed he was allowed to get tired once in a while.

But now, as the Doctor slowly walked down the steps, he remembered why he didn't like sleeping.

_Nightmares. _

Dreadful, horrific, terrible nightmares – haunting and waiting for the Doctor in every corner, every little fold in his mind…like vicious predators. And there were too many nightmares. Death after death, scream after scream, demon after demon just _running _after him, _chasing _him, _engraving _themselves in him.

But this nightmare was different. New. Something that the Doctor hadn't planned on seeing – at least, not now.

_"You will never step into your TARDIS again," _a chilling, familiar voice had whispered to him, followed by a stunningly angry, threatening glare. And the Doctor _knew _the person who was glaring at him – _knew _the person who was whispering to him.

Clara Oswald had been standing before the Doctor, surrounded by smoke and flames, holding up a small object with the coldest expression he had ever seen. Her eyes had been glazed over with tears – though whether from anger or sadness, the Doctor couldn't tell – and her words had come out in spitfire. The Doctor couldn't even figure out what the nightmare meant – if it was to mean anything at all.

The only thing he _did _know was that the nightmare was something that rattled him to the core. The very _thought _that Clara might turn against him or _leave _him or simply go rouge made him want to throw something. Or change something. Or go into drastic measures to make sure that Clara wouldn't ever leave his side.

"Doctor?"

The Doctor flinched and whirled around. Clara herself was standing in the doorway of one of the halls, a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She was rubbing her eyes with one fist (and making herself look very much like a child in the meantime) and her hair was in a mess, but she looked relaxed. "Is there something wrong? You've been staring into the void for a while," she mumbled sleepily. "Nothing's wrong," the Doctor replied, wincing inwardly almost immediately – his words had come out too fast and Clara knew it as well.

"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Clara hummed and shuffled into the console room. She adjusted her grip on the blanket and asked, "What is it now? Is there another planet that needs saving? Or a forest that we need to re-visit?" She snapped her fingers and with a semi-enthusiastic smile, asked, "Are we going to go forward in time and visit the five-hundredth president of the United States?"

"Clara –" the Doctor started to say, though the brunette was already on a roll, her eyes alight with excitement.

"Or are we going to go see Camelot? Would be nice, you know – King Arthur and his advisor Merlin sounded _so interesting _to me as a kid. But you know, Robin was the first," Clara drummed her fingers along the console. She perked up and asked, "Do you think we'll be able to pop a visit to Robin again sometime? That'd be absolutely _amazing_, don't you think?"

"Clara –"

"_Ooh_ – we could go travel to some more planets! Or suns!" Clara rolled on, gradually waking up. "Do you think we can see a –"

"_Clara!_" the Doctor said, exasperation tinging his voice. Clara's mouth instantly closed. She gave him a sheepish smile and squeaked, "Sorry." She shrugged her shoulders and leaned in towards the Doctor, her face only a few inches away from his. The Doctor exhaled a soft sigh and scooted a few steps back and said, "We're not going anywhere right now."

_"You will never step into your TARDIS again." _

_Glares. _

_Smoke. _

_Flames. _

_Clara Oswald. _

"Doctor?" Clara whispered softly. She waved her hand around the Doctor's face, a bewildered expression slowly taking over her face. "You're getting that look again." The Doctor blinked his eyes and shook his head. "It's nothing," he replied with a tight-lipped smile. If anything, Clara seemed to grow more worried, but she just withdrew from the Doctor.

"Alright, then," she murmured. She awkwardly jutted her thumb back into the hallway. "I'll just be back in the bedroom, then…" With a small nod, Clara started to walk back. However, before she could disappear from view, the Doctor called, "Clara, do you think I've ever treated you…" His voice trailed off as Clara turned around to look at him. There was a small, gentle smile gracing her lips. She leaned against the doorway and asked, "Treat me how?"

The Doctor's throat went dry. He shifted his weight from foot to foot and managed to whisper out the word, "Badly."

Clara's brow furrowed. She chewed down on her lip in a painfully slow manner. The Doctor couldn't help but hold his breath. How would she answer – was there any reason that she would possibly…leave him?

"No, of course not," Clara replied quietly. A twinkle of humor lit up in her eyes and added, "Well, I mean, you've been a pain sometimes. But to be fair, I think everyone is capable of doing some disagreeable things." She tilted her head curiously at the Doctor. "Are you sure you're alright? You look peculiar."

"I'm the Doctor, Clara – I always look peculiar," the Doctor managed to reply.

Clara giggled. "True," she agreed and pointed back into the hallway. "Well, then – I'll be in my bedroom if you need me." This time, she turned on her heel and said over her shoulder, "If you'd like to join me, you can just come along." The Doctor hesitated, staring after Clara's retreating back. He watched as she rounded the corner and then, cursing lightly under his breath, he darted after her.

Not to his great surprise, Clara was already waiting for him. She extended a hand. Again, the Doctor found himself pausing, but then as if it was the easiest thing in the world, he slipped his hand into hers. She gave it a tiny, comforting squeeze and headed down the hallway. In almost no time at all, the two were in Clara's bedroom (at least, the one that the TARDIS finally stopped shoving off,) and standing in front of the bed.

"As long as you don't kick me, I think we'll be okay with this arrangement," Clara said. She slipped under the covers and nestled her head into the pillow. She looked up at the Doctor and lifted a corner of the blanket. "Come on," she chided, and the Doctor obeyed. He kicked off his shoes and joined Clara on the mattress. There was a small silence between them.

But then Clara's hand re-tucked itself into his and with a small sigh, she rested her head on the Doctor's shoulder. The Doctor froze, unsure how to react. His eyes flitted down to Clara, whose eyes were now closed. She looked perfectly content in this position. The Doctor felt his heart(s) soften and he let his head drop a little further into the pillow.

But just as he could allow himself to drift off to sleep, he tilted his head and planted a small kiss on Clara's forehead. If she felt it, she didn't acknowledge, but the Doctor didn't mind it too much. He sighed and rolled back to the pillow.

Maybe he could sleep a bit better this time.

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><p><strong>AN - So not a ton of strong Whouffaldi in this one...(I'm planning on releasing a stronger Whouffaldi soon. Maybe something like _Before_. (For those of you who don't know, it's another Whouffaldi story I released a while ago.) But I tried! *sheepish smile* **

**Reviews are always awesome! Constructive criticism is welcome, but flames are not! (And now, I have to return to studying for a bunch of quizzes and tests...UGH. WHY CAN'T I JUST DROWN IN WHOUFFALDI AND TAYLOR SWIFT MUSIC.) **


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